They Need It
by Resha04
Summary: Because Veneziano needed to know that he was still and would always be waiting. Because Romano needed to realize that he'd never and would never be able to truly hate. They needed to be told that it was okay and they wouldn't be alone anymore, but they needed to remember the pain just as much sometimes


**I know I have 3 fanfics which haven't been updated for maybe ages and maybe their followers want to strangle me until my eyes are out, but I suddenly feel very angsty after reading a doujin and realized that Italy brothers had so much pain in their past. So here is a little messed up drabble without a real point.**_  
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**When everything has ceased down a little in my college, I'll update the other 3. So please don't kill me yet?  
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**The bold-italic words are the lyrics from That's Okay by The Hush Sound.  
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**I do not own Hetalia  
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* * *

**_You were a child who was made of glass_**

It was raining outside, droplets of water poured onto the earth, onto the flowers, onto the soil, onto what was buried beneath. And Veneziano didn't like it one bit.

Because maybe _he _was cold down there, all alone and dark and suffocating and sorrow, and-

What was he thinking? Italy, him, was still waiting. Waiting and remembering, waiting and forgetting sometimes, no. He never forgets. Never, that was a vow. No, it wasn't. Maybe it was a desperate hope. Because Prussia was no longer a country but he was still there, still breathing, still laughing, still _alive_, so _he _should be too.

After all, Italy was waiting. Feliciano was waiting.

But then there is Germany, blond hair and blue eyes and resolute face and everything that screamed _him him him it's him it's him it's him_ and oh God, how much he wanted to accept it but he wanted to deny it just as much because it meant he loved Germany because Germany looked like _him_ and he didn't want it. He loved Germany because Germany is Germany.

_Liar liar liar_ his heart screamed to him and if only he could cover his ears from it because he knew how much it was true.

Veneziano wanted it so much to be true, for him to be _him_, and he felt guilt ripped apart the inside of him everytime he was with Germany and he saw flowers because _he _liked to give him flowers.

Raining and every droplets, each of them had showered onto the flowers, forcing their petals to bow down and didn't it hurt hurt hurt so very much?

-o-

_**You were boundless and beauty with fright on your face**  
_

And yes, Romano had been waiting too. Alone and hoping and bruising everywhere and hurting everytime until he stopped waiting and decided to just loathe, to just hate, rather than cry and hurt himself.

But he didn't know he was still hurting himself that way, hating, loathing, being bitter.

_I don't care I don't care I don't care_ he told himself that, always told himself that. But he didn't know that he still did.

Because he hated his grandfather and that was the proof that he did care. He did care that he was left alone, did care that he wasn't allowed to be by grandpa's, no, Roman Empire's side when he passed away.

_I don't care_

He did care. Because it was hurt hurt hurt and betrayal betrayal betrayal echoing in his heart everytime Spain left.

He did care because he refused to shed even a tear, stuffing the bitterness and pain and betrayal and loneliness deep down inside his heart. He didn't know that by doing all that he proved that he couldn't hate, he couldn't loathe.

It hurt so much but it was never hate, it was never loathe. It was just betrayal and loneliness. It was never hate to begin with.

-o-

Veneziano was in the bathroom again and judging by the amount of time he'd been spending inside, Romano decided to kick his own fucking angstiness out the window for the moment and knocked on the bathroom door, even though he didn't need an answer to go inside.

And yes, there his brother was. Hugging his knees inside the bathtub and staring at the rain from the narrow window high above and on the sound of the door he turned around.

He didn't smile, and Romano was glad.

If he did, he would punch him for sure.

So he climbed into the empty bathtub with his brother and sat next to him. He didn't resist when Veneziano wrapped his arms around him and pulled him close to a gesture very close to hug.

He wanted it, he needed it, and he was too much in his own train of thought, in the _rain_, to deny it.

-o-

His brother was warm, and he was lonely. They both had been, they both were.

_He_ was still not here, Veneziano still waited.

It had been centuries since Rome left Romano, but Veneziano knew that it still hurt so much inside.

Because being left alone and being bereaved, being promised and being betrayed, it hurt the same. It hurt so much and clawing inside and the wound would reopen sometimes.

But that was okay. Veneziano knew his brother is strong and he knew he is too.

They just needed some time like this once in a while, to put down their facades and reopening old wounds that was better if it wasn't, to remember what pain is and the taste of the bitterness and loneliness. They need some time together like this, just the two of them, two halves of Italy, without Germany, without Japan, without Spain, because even though they needed to be told that it was going to be okay, they weren't alone anymore, they needed to remember the pain just as much sometimes.

Call them masochist.

Call them weird.

Call them weak.

Veneziano and Romano wouldn't care, just for that once in a while time.

Because they needed it.

Veneziano needed to know that he was still and would always be waiting.

Romano needed to realize that he had never and would never be able to truly hate.

They needed it.


End file.
